


Interrupted

by nerdqueenenterprise



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Crying, Eventual Happy Ending, Frustrated Hugh, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, essentially: Paul Stamets what the fuck, oblivious Paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdqueenenterprise/pseuds/nerdqueenenterprise
Summary: There are a lot of things Hugh is willing to bear for his boyfriend. A lot of things he's willing to let slide, too. But at the end of the day he's only human, and some things just piss him the hell off.At the end of the day he'd also like to get the whole package during sex, not just the first couple minutes.





	Interrupted

Hugh tries again, this time with perfectly bite sized pieces that Paul would technically just have to open his mouth for and then chew (or not chew, if he wants to be horrible). He gets an icy glare for his troubles.

    “I  _ told _ you I’m not hungry, and I’m trying to concentrate.”

At least he’s trying to concentrate in their quarters, so Hugh at least gets to see the man he loves sometimes.

    “I know that, but you also haven’t eaten since  _ yesterday’s breakfast, Paul _ ! I don’t want to force feed you, but I’m about five seconds away from force feeding you.”

    “Force feed me your dick,” Paul mutters, eyes never leaving his PADD.

Hugh chokes a little. 

    “What?!”

If it were at all possible for Paul to look even more annoyed, he would.

    “I said, force feed me your dick! Is that a difficult concept for you?”

No. No, it isn’t, because Paul approaches sex like everything else in life - either do it perfectly, or not do it at all, and boy is he perfect, and his lips turn pink and his cheeks flush and his eyes are so, so blue when he blows Hugh and using that as a weapon is really not fair.

Paul rolls his eyes and heaves a sigh and his PADD clatters on the ground next to Hugh’s feet where he’s kneeling now, looking up at Hugh with his lips open and slick with saliva. There are hands at his hips, undoing the fastenings of his pants and Paul doesn’t even bother with nuzzling him through his underwear, instead tugging the whole thing down and nosing Hugh’s skin directly.

A distant buzzing is in Hugh’s mind, like there’s something he’s forgetting; and that’s easy, because Paul’s lashes have fluttered closed and he’s easily coaxing Hugh to full hardness, lips and tongue teasing just the way he knows Hugh loves.

    “You’re supposed to eat something,” Hugh blurts out suddenly, fingers already twitching with the need to pull Paul closer and mess with his hair.

Another annoyed glare and the stubborn fool at Hugh’s feet fits his lips around the tip of his dick, light pink and thoroughly lovely. His tongue is playing a little, swirling little designs onto his skin.

When Paul pulls back, a thin strand of saliva connects his lips to Hugh’s dick before he licks his lips.

    “I’m eating your dick, aren’t I?” is delivered with a raised eyebrow.

Paul goes back to work, softening his jaw to let Hugh slide inside. His mouth is hot and slick and with every passing second Hugh stops caring more and more about what he’s actually supposed to be doing. Paul’s tongue presses against the underside of his dick, squeezing it gently between his tongue and his palate and the tip of Hugh’s dick presses against the soft back of Paul’s mouth, then a little further, and when Paul swallows Hugh admittedly goes a little cross eyed. He cards a hand into Paul’s hair and Paul moans. And that’s… that’s really nice.

Paul shuffles closer and finally wraps a hand around the base, beginning to work Hugh properly. It’s good and there’s the fact that Paul’s on his knees, which is a little too rare for Hugh’s liking, and he’s getting all of Paul’s undivided attention, which is also a little rare, and -

_ Ding _ .

Paul gives a soft moan of surprise and pulls off, grabbing his PADD.

His other hand is still wrapped nicely around Hugh’s dick, holding him almost at perfect height, and there’s that string of saliva again. This time Paul doesn’t lick his lips, and the string keeps shimmering, like a promise, while Paul sits back on his heels and flips through charts or whatever.

    “Uh. Paul?”

Paul doesn’t even acknowledge that.

Hugh’s dick throbs a little. All he can do is stare down at his completely impossible boyfriend.

    “Um, we were… sorta busy here? Paul?”

Paul ignores him again and licks his lips. The string of saliva disappears, almost like Hugh’s hope for an orgasm.

He puts a smidge of pressure on his fingertips resting on the back of Paul’s head, like a quiet begging reminder, but of course it remains unacknowledged.

And then Paul is done with whatever he was looking at, types out a quick reply, and puts his mouth back on Hugh like nothing happened.

Hugh groans softly and pushes his hips forward, and Paul’s eager and content and he’s really good at this, his tongue flicking the head and his throat feels damn amazing, and his fingers, and he’s humming a little -

_ Ding _ , and he pulls off again, shocking a little gasp out of Hugh.

    “Paul, come on, that’s not fair.”

    “Shh.” His fingers drop from Hugh’s dick because whatever he’s doing apparently requires both hands. His lips slide back over Hugh for a moment, but his concentration is on the screen.

Hugh sighs inwardly and accepts it, allowing himself to push past Paul’s lips a little and then pull back. Maybe that’ll remind him of what he’s supposed to be doing.

And it does, because Paul drops his PADD and pushes all the way forward, burying his nose in Hugh’s pubic hair.

    “ _Fuck!_ ” Hugh gasps, curling forward. He’s completely inside of Paul. Fuck, but that’s hot, and Paul’s going to swallow now, maybe even just a couple of times, because Hugh’s blood pressure is already a little through the roof, and this is not going to take long at all, and Paul’s light skin is so beautiful against Hugh’s darker skin and he’s all the way inside of Paul, and -

_ Ding _ . 

Paul miraculously doesn’t pull off, instead just lifting his PADD to eye level.

Then suddenly he sputters and pulls off, gasps “What?!”, is on his feet in moments and presses an absent-minded kiss to Hugh’s lips, “Gotta go, there’s -”, and whatever it is he says to the corridor, because he’s already out the door, and the door swishes shut again and Hugh’s left standing there with his dick hanging out of his pants. Literally and metaphorically.

    “So, are you going to come back and finish this eventually?” he asks the door, gesturing towards his dick. Paul doesn’t come back to answer him, because Paul’s science is more important than Hugh’s physical pleasure.

 

He jacks off in the shower and finally goes to bed after having dinner on his own, because Paul doesn’t come back, because Paul’s an asshole.

He reads in bed for a while, and then puts it aside and flicks out the light, and even though it’s almost eleven, Paul still isn’t back.

Hugh is almost asleep when the front door seems to open, the light flicks on in the bedroom, then off again, and he can hear Paul in the bathroom.

Then the mattress dips and Paul curls himself around Hugh and that’s that, apparently.

‘Hi Hugh, sorry for leaving you hanging, let me make it up to you.’ Or not.

  
  
  


It happens again not too soon after. Paul is biting the most lovely kisses along Hugh’s neck, hips thrusting shallowly and making Hugh squirm, and he’s got his legs around Paul’s middle and it’s all kinds of perfect with Paul moaning into his ear, and he can mess Paul’s hair up and they’re holding hands and Paul’s other hand is wrapped around Hugh’s dick and they probably spent an hour on the foreplay and there isn’t even a crease in the bedding beneath Hugh that could be irritating.

Perfect.

Paul pulls back a little, gives him a grin and a sharper thrust. Hugh throws his head back and moans with the sparks shooting up his spine, clenching down reflexively, and that makes Paul thrust again and again, his angle is utterly perfect too, because he doesn’t do anything by halves, and it’s not going to take lo n g -

_ Ding. _

Paul stops all movement and reaches over to his PADD.

    “I just gotta - it’s important, it’s about the third harvest…” he mutters in explanation.

    “We’re kind of in the middle of something here!”

    “Yeah, yeah, just give me a sec- oh,  _ fuck! _ ” He drops the PADD, managing to hit Hugh’s knee, pulls out, scrambles to put his pants on and is out the door before he’s even got his jacket zipped up. 

Hugh feels… empty. And not just because Paul isn’t inside of him anymore.

    “Sorry,” Paul gasps, sprinting back inside and grabbing his PADD. “Gotta go, it’s -”

And again Hugh doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence.

 

He doesn’t get himself off this time because he’d like to wallow in being grumpy for a bit.

Paul comes back later and is cuddly, but decidedly distracted, and probably doesn’t even notice Hugh being extremely short with him.

  
  
  


The next time it’s admittedly Hugh’s fault - he’s on call for a second shift now, because he’d like to make CMO sometime in his life, but he also wants to eat Paul out, so Paul’s only barely holding on to the wall keeping him upright when the intercom switches on.

_ Doctor Culber, please report to medical bay immediately _ .

Hugh swears into Paul’s skin, finishes his work with a long lick that makes Paul squirm, and gets up.

Paul’s a sight for all the gods, of course, leaning against the wall, breath going fast, sweaty and flushed and aroused and barely sentient anymore, a sliver of blue peeking through his white lashes.

Hugh kisses his neck sorry, and makes his way over to the bathroom.

    “Don’t forget the lube,” Paul calls after him, voice beautifully wrecked.

The words only register with Hugh as he’s already done brushing his teeth and halfway into his uniform.

Paul’s still leaning against the wall, and coming back from the bathroom allows Hugh a peek at his dick, hard and flushed, and yes, he does feel a bit bad about this, but he’s obviously needed.

    “Sorry, love,” he says again, leaving a peck on Paul’s lips and then he’s out of the door.

  
  


Predictably, Paul is pissed when Hugh comes back five hours later, and he’s letting Hugh feel it, because the room feels icy.

Paul did stay up though, and Hugh knows he’s being glared at while he gets ready for bed. His feet feel like they’ll fall off and die any minute though, and his back hurts and there’s a distinct tremor in his wrist that he doesn’t like at all - complete ocular reconstruction is always a bitch - and he’s tired and if he’s lucky he’ll get four hours before his next shift, and he’s almost wondering whether his ego really wants the promotion so damn badly (yes, yes it does; and the current CMO is going to step down after this voyage anyways, she told him, and this is his chance, so he’ll be damned if he doesn’t put in the work, and he does love his work after all), but he’s not in the mood for Paul giving him the cold shoulder, as deserved as it may be.

    “So are you going to -”

    “No,” he shuts Paul down quickly, and curls up on his side of the beds. “Lights off.”

Paul doesn’t come to cuddle him, and that hurts a little.

  
  
  


Three days later, Paul is riding him, which is bliss, and he’s so lost in it that he’ll drag it out forever probably, because if there’s one thing he loves it’s riding Hugh (and sucking his dick, and being eaten out, and cuddling, and being fucked against the wall, and holding Hugh down when he fucks him… yeah okay, he loves a lot of things). He’s making soft little punched out gasps with most movements, and he clenches and moves his hips and they’re holding hands and Paul’s entire body is flushed a light rose and he’s biting his lips so they’re red and plump and Hugh sucked a very nice line of hickeys down his chest, which is almost glowing.

Hugh is desperately in love. And in lust. 

He tugs on Paul’s hips, makes him snap them, and Paul laughs and looks down on him, eyes bright and only on Hugh.

    “God, I love you,” Hugh pants out.

    “I’m a lucky guy,” Paul replies with something between a blush and a cheeky grin. He bends down and kisses Hugh, stopping his movements for a moment. Hugh grips his neck and holds him down, kissing him more deeply and picking up the slack, easily fucking up into Paul, who’s warm and pliant and tight and who groans into Hugh’s mouth when Hugh fucks him just right.

They exchange hot breaths and kisses and Paul’s moaning almost constantly now, turning almost a little helpless with pleasure, eyes squeezed closed, because that’s what Hugh does to him, makes him crazy, makes him gasp out his name, “Oh, Hugh!” and -

    “Hugh, what time is it?” His voice is, except for the tiniest hitch around Hugh’s name, completely sobered, and he’s stopped moving.

    “Wh-what?” Hugh gasps out, slowing down as well. “Why does that  _ matter _ , Paul, we’re in the middle of something here, and come on, I’m literally this close to coming, please, love, don’t -”

Paul’s eyes have fluttered over to the alarm clock on the nightstand and are growing wide.

    “Shit, it’s quarter to, the centrifuge stopped ten minutes ago! I’m sorry, Hugh, I gotta…”

Hugh tunes the rest out while Paul scrambles about their quarters, puts on his clothes and is eventually out of the door. It’s not like his lover is lying here, aroused and only minutes away from their mutual orgasm, and it’s not like it hasn’t been good for Paul. But, hey, if the damn centrifuge is done, what can a mere boyfriend do against that?

  
  
  


The most infuriating thing about Paul is that he’s got such a lack of social skills sometimes that he’s incredibly bad on picking up on social cues. Like for example when you’re mad because you love your boyfriend, a lot, and you know he loves his science and he’s brilliant and making breakthroughs every other day, and it’s all genius, and you’re really trying to forgive him for somehow ruining every single damn time they try to have sex.

The problem is twofold, because it’s not just Paul always vanishing. It’s also him being so absent mentally sometimes Hugh could also be doing it with a mannequin, and that kills his boner every single damn time.

But he also loves Paul, and he’s far too attractive to be real, so he doesn’t exactly object when Paul, more joking than serious, tells him to suck his dick. Which is really nice, because Paul enjoys it and it’s intimate and Hugh enjoys doing that for Paul, and Paul’s fingers are scratching his scalp.

Wait.

No, they actually aren’t anymore, just resting on Hugh’s head, and Paul has been awfully quiet, which isn’t like him at all.

Hugh lets Paul’s dick slip from his mouth to look upwards. 

Paul’s engrossed in something that looks like a science journal.

    “Are you fucking serious?!” Hugh snaps, the words bubbling up in his chest, red with anger. He gets to his feet with Paul watching him, clearly confused.

    “You know, sometimes I wonder why the hell I even  _ bother _ . Enjoy your science journal!”

He leaves, guts curling and knotting and shaking in anger.

There isn’t really anywhere to go, so he storms along the main corridor until he’s at their door again, way too soon, and then makes his way over to the observation deck. If he’d have his gym clothes with him, he’d probably work himself stupid.

He’s so  _ pissed _ , there aren’t even words! Paul is dense sometimes, yes, but Hugh hadn’t thought he’d be  _ that _ dense. Which part of ‘my boyfriend’s on his knees and blowing me’ warrants such utter boredom that you flip open a journal to read?

And, knowing Paul, he probably just zipped up and got comfy on the couch to continue his reading.

 

Hugh spends a while just tigering up and down the observation deck, probably terrifying everyone else, and his anger slowly simmers down.

Eventually he feels able to go back to their quarters for the night, and he does.

Paul is sitting on the couch, facing the door, clearly expecting Hugh, and Hugh needs a moment to compose himself.

    “You’re angry at me,” Paul says after they’ve stared for a while. “I... think so, at least. I don’t know.”

    “Damn right I’m angry at you!” Hugh snaps. The anger is back full force.

Paul is looking confused and he’s wearing his thinking face and the edges of Hugh’s vision turn red.

    “What did I do?”

Hugh can only stand and stare. What did he do?! So he doesn’t even  _ realize _ -

    “I’m taking a shower,” he replies, voice icy, and leaves the room.

 

He’s just gotten around to starting to undress when the bathroom door thwips open to reveal Paul.

    “Was that a ‘I’m taking a shower and you can make your wrongdoings up to me by blowing me’, or was that -”

    “That was a ‘I’m taking a shower because I’m less than three seconds away from murdering you’.”

    “Oh. Okay.” And the door closes again.

Hugh is going to have an aneurysm.

 

    “So are you going to tell me what I did, or are you just not going to talk to me?” Paul asks when Hugh is done with the shower (where he may or may not have gotten off to the mental image of holding Paul down and fucking him sore).

    “Oh, I think I’m not going to talk to you.” Hugh keeps his voice icy and sits down on the couch, grabbing his PADD to at least pretend he’s working.

    “Okay then.” And Paul snuggles up right next to him, sitting sideways so his back is leaning against Hugh’s arm and his legs are on the couch.

The physical contact is nice and Hugh has missed that for sure, and he loves Paul a lot, which is exactly why he’s so angry.

    “You know this wasn’t exactly a blanket permission to cuddle me, right?”

    “... not?”

    “No.”

    “Okay.” Paul sounds hurt. “Um - may I cuddle you?”

    “No, you may not.”

Paul’s back tenses reflexively, and Hugh’s stomach drops, suddenly feeling incredibly bad.

    “I… will be in the labs, then.”

Hugh knows that tone. It’s the ‘I’m about a minute away from crying’ tone. That’s… a horrible, horrible feeling. Paul’s going to hide himself in a corner somewhere in his labs, maybe even in the jeffries tubes, and sob. It’s happened before.

He sighs and stares at the door. They don’t fight a lot, not anymore. The beginning was tough, and they both had to learn to be with each other, but it’s been a long time since it’s been this bad.

And the thing is - yeah, Hugh feels incredibly bad. But there’s also a terrifyingly large part of him that’s disgustingly pleased at having retaliated.

Which makes him feel even worse.

God, he probably needs to go after Paul.

He doesn’t want to, because he’s angry and selfish and maybe Paul deserves it a little bit for being so damn empty-headed.

Except he doesn’t really deserve it, and they need to talk about it like adults, preferably before Paul jumps to conclusions or moves back to his quarters all on his own. He might be the stupidest, most idiotically hare-brained and emotionally backwards genius in the entire galaxy, but he’s  _ Hugh _ ’s emotionally backwards genius.

So he asks the computer for Paul’s location - a crook of tubing in engineering - and makes for that.

 

He almost misses the tiny point of access, and, shaking his head at his boyfriend, squeezes inside, where it’s completely dark.

And where there’s darkness, sounds are amplified. For example the sound of Paul sobbing helplessly.

When Hugh’s fingers bump against clothed flesh, he sits down and wordlessly pulls Paul into his arms, rocking him a little. Paul clings to Hugh’s shirt immediately, turning his head inward to press against his head against Hugh’s chest and cry himself out.

    “You know I love you, right?” Hugh says, voice feeling odd. “I do, Paul, I really do, and I sure as hell don’t hate you. You’re an idiot, but I love you. So much, okay?”

Paul’s only response is to cry harder, whole body shaking, making a little groaning whimper like a wounded animal, and Hugh’s heart physically shatters.

    “Love, love, Paul, my dear, please.” He cradles Paul closer, kissing his hair.

    “I - I-i s-till do-n’t know wha-at I did. ‘M sorry, H-hugh, ‘m so-sor-ry-y, I do-n’t know, I -”

    “Sh-sh-sh.” Hugh rocks him against his chest. “It’s okay, Paul. Just cry, it’s okay, we’ll talk later.”

 

Paul needs a couple of long minutes to calm down, until finally he’s just hiccuping against Hugh’s chest, and Hugh’s shirt is completely wet.

    “What’d I d-do?”

    “You were being a colossal asshole the past six weeks, and I put up with it because I love you and because I thought it was a phase and because I know you’ve been working hard and because I thought you’d eventually realize how you’d been acting.”

    “But I di-dn’t.”

    “But you didn’t, and then you ran out of the room, crying, and I am mad at you, love, but I didn’t want you to curl up crying in a corner of the ship and jump to conclusions.”

    “What did I do?”

    “Well, the last straw was reading a journal of some sorts while I was going down on you earlier today.” Hugh can’t quite keep the vicious note out of his voice. “If you remember that, even. I was the guy on his knees, if that helps.”

Paul’s tensing up again.

    “But there were plenty of last straws. I don’t think we had sex a single time without you eventually getting distracted by something more important. Or we had sex but you were so clearly somewhere else that I think doing it with a mannequin would’ve been more involving. You’ve been cold to me, you’re barely there, you space out during every conversation as soon as it’s not about your science, and you get snappish when I have to leave because I’m on call. Yes, I know I was eating you out that one time and then I had to leave you hanging, but I can think of at least six occasions where you did the same, so I don’t think an argument in that direction should count. Paul, I love you, I really do, but you’re an asshole without peer sometimes.”

Paul breathes wetly.

    “I - I didn’t realize…”

    “Damn right you didn’t. We don’t have to have sex, Paul. I told you, if you’d rather not, or if you’d rather never have sex with me again, that’s fine by me, and I want you to be comfortable and happy, but I like to think that I’m good enough in bed that you won’t start checking some calculations while I’m fucking you. Or you’re fucking me. Or either of us is going down on the other. Talk to me, obviously, and don’t - I want to have sex with all of you, Paul, not just your body. And yeah, I’d like to actually have conversations with you, and I’d - I’d like for you to be mentally present in our relationship, too.”

He doesn’t say the other thing that that implies. That he’s not doing it for Paul anymore, that Paul is bored or repulsed or just doesn’t like him anymore, because it feels like an unfair move.

    “Break up with me if you must,” his mouth betrays him. “But don’t just - don’t do what you have been doing.”

The silence hangs so heavy between them that Hugh fears it’ll split them apart.

Finally Paul says: “I don’t want to break up with you.”

    “Neither do I.”

    “I didn’t - I didn’t think.”

    “No, you didn’t.”

    “I love you, and I love - that I can come back to you, and you’ve always been there, and I just… I think I got too used to you. I didn’t - I never meant to - you mean the world to me, Hugh. You’ve always been there for me… and I wasn’t for you.”

    “What do I need to do to keep you… I don’t know, to keep you interested? To keep you wanting me?”

    “Nothing! Nothing, Hugh, I - I want you, and I’ve always wanted you, but I got used to having you around. To - to not needing to do anything to earn your love, and then I stopped doing - an-yth-thing.” He sobs again, burying his face in Hugh’s chest. “I’m going to do better,” he whispers finally. “You deserve better. And I love having sex with you, I really do, I’m just - fuck, Hugh, I’m so unbelievably shit at social cues.”

    “I noticed,” Hugh remarks dryly.

    “But I’ll try to do better. Really. And - Hugh, please… I don’t know, tell me earlier. I never know when I’m being an ass.”

    “I noticed that, too.”

    “And I’m sorry about leaving you hanging so often.”

    “Good thing I have a set of functional hands then, right?”

    “It’s not the same.”

    “It is the same if your boyfriend is so uninvolved he sometimes barely got hard.”

    “I’m sorry. I really am.”

    “I know. Now I’m being the asshole.”

    “I deserve that.”

Hugh sighs. “No, you don’t. Come on, let’s get back to our quarters, have dinner, and then you can make it up to me, okay?”

    “Are you serious? You really want to have sex with me after I -”

    “Paul Stamets, you might be the biggest idiot in the galaxy, but you’re also the most ridiculously attractive guy I have ever met, and I’m a also little deprived, so I’d like to have sex with you  _ twice _ .”

    “When do we ever stop at one round?” Paul mutters, and there seems to be a smile back in his voice.

    “Well, when’s the last time we managed one round?”

    “Touché.”

Hugh smooths his fingers through Paul’s hair. “So. Wanna get back home?”

    “I don’t - I probably look like I just bawled my eyes out. Can we… stay here? Just a little longer?”

    “Hm. How about not? Computer, side-by-side transportation to my quarters. Don’t log it.”

_ Acknowledged, Doctor Culber. _

 

They materialize standing up, with Paul pressed against Hugh’s chest, and both of them squint at the sudden brightness.

    “Computer, lights thirty percent,” Hugh orders.

Despite the lights being bearable now, Paul snuggles back into Hugh’s shoulder.

    “Paul. Look at me.”

Paul does, and his eyes and nose are still puffy and red. Hugh kisses him gently. 

    “I love you, okay? Yeah, sometimes you piss me off, but I still love you, and I don’t want to trade you for anything in the galaxy. And also you haven’t been eating enough lately, so I’m going to insist on feeding you now. Go clean up, okay?”

  
  
  


He’d almost forgotten just how marvelous Paul sounds when he’s being eaten out, how soft his skin is and how he tends to shake and kick when Hugh rubs his stubble against his skin, and he’d almost forgotten how tight Paul is and how his eyes go completely wide and disbelieving when Hugh pushes in, and he’d almost forgotten how Paul sounds when his prostate is stimulated and how his legs wrap around Hugh’s waist, and how he’s definitely a screamer.

Hugh cuddles right next to Paul after cleaning them up rudimentarily, their noses almost meeting, and he places a possessive hand on Paul’s chest.

    “You wanna top in round two?”

Paul rolls onto his side and threads his legs together with Hugh’s. “I wanna ride you.”

    “What if I wanted to be fucked?”

Hugh’s love yawns and tucks his head under his chin. “There’s always round three.”

    “You’re going to fall asleep before round two, aren’t you?”

    “So wake me.”

    “You’ve got a double shift tomorrow, so I sure as hell won’t.”

    “I don’t have to work double.” Paul pulls back a little and his eyes glitter playfully. “You’ve got beta shift, don’t you?”

    “Mhm. I’m on call for alpha though.”

    “I could work beta only and we could have sex for all of alpha.”

    “All of it?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Starting at 0800?”

    “M-hm.”   
    “So if I let you sleep now I can wake you in nine hours and make you fuck me?”

    “That’s the idea.”

    “You gonna eat me out, too? Blow me?”

    “Anything you want.”

Hugh grins and tugs the blanket over them, pressing closer to Paul’s naked body.

    “We’re naked. You’re going to have to keep me warm.”

Paul winds his arms around Hugh and tugs him even closer, pillowing his chin on Hugh’s head.

    “Gladly.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you liked it, please tell me if you did <3
> 
> also come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.shroom-boi.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Interrupted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17809325) by [WTF_ST_Discovery_20XX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_ST_Discovery_20XX/pseuds/WTF_ST_Discovery_20XX)




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